In Appreciation of the Layered, Mad Genius of Taylor Swift's "Blank Space"

Taylor Swift is the latest female celebrity to whom we've chosen to affix our own psyches, neuroses, and vanities. (Previous victims of this collectively unfair trend include Anne "Too Earnest" Hathaway, Jennifer "Cool Girl" Lawrence, Mila "Cooler Girl" Kunis, and Beyoncé "Are You My Mother?" Knowles.) In a recent essay for New York, Maureen O'Connor touches on this same idea: "Fame has always been a reflection of some cultural need," she says. "We project our hopes, fears, dreams, and nightmares onto celebrities. They become props for discussions that, ultimately, have nothing to do with them." And when Taylor Swift debuted the rather questionable video for her first single off of 1989, "Shake It Off," the Internet enjoyed another helping of celebrity-fueled haterade.

But for any mistakes made with her first video, Swift—whose debut crossover album is straight-up destroying records (1.2 million units were sold in the very first week; in comparison, Katy Perry's Prism, sold around 286,000 copies its first week)—makes up for it with "Blank Space." The thing is a triumph. From the opening sequence, in which a black lace-clad Swift cradles her celebrity cat, Olivia Benson (a well-documented Law & Order: SVU reference), in the kind of storybook bedroom that only a seven-year-old with a princess complex would think exists in the real world (see: two white ponies), it's clear that this isn't your average pop video. If you look carefully, it is rife with sociopolitical and cultural commentary. (Also worth noting is the fact that the fiscally smart star got American Express to foot the entire livestock-and-couture-filled bill.)

YouTube, Graphic by Jennifer Baumgardner

In this version of the carefully curated fairytale, Swift plays the role of the slightly unhinged millionaire (or the Gatsby) while her unassuming victim plays a perfectly chiseled, male Daisy Buchanan. This isn't the first time Swift sends up gender roles. Later, we see Him (the divine Sean O'Pry) sitting still while Swift paints him like one of her French girls: an image burned into our collective consciousness by Titanic. Later, as she falls deeper into the throes of spurned-lover psychosis, Swift awkwardly tilts and angles her body like an overly contorted model in a fashion advertisement. Perhaps I'm reading too much into things, but everything here suggests that Swift knows the preposterousness of how aspirational womanhood is sometimes sold to women—especially in media.

YouTube, Graphic by Jennifer Baumgardner

Aside from the gender observations, the spot is also dotted with pop culture references. For example, a scene in which the couple bikes indoors while dressed in traditionally waspy rugby stripes and gingham pedal pushers. Swift, who herself, is the product of a middle class, suburban upbringing, seems to be winking at the blasé conspicuity of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue. (Incidentally, the 24-year-old is a former A&F model.) As a prepubescent sixth grader in Washington D.C., I used to consume those images as if they were the blueprints on which I could build a teeming-with-meaningful-sexuality adolescence. (To this day, I have never once ridden a bicycle indoors while wearing Nantucket-ready knitwear. I've been robbed.)

YouTube, Graphic by Jennifer Baumgardner

Then there are also the additional allusions to film, TV, and literature: She cuts Mean Girl-style holes out of her man's button down; she cites Justin Timberlake's "Suit and Tie" at the dining room table; she and her guy dance alone indoors (paging Nicholas Sparks!); she smashes his convertible with a golf club (the ultimate crazy lady trope); and suffers a Champagne and candy heart-induced meltdown not unlike those depicted in Edward St. Aubyn novels.

With "Blank Space," Swift is making the sort of grand, sweeping statement that runs counter to Beyoncé's deeply personal, visually unprecedented, self-titled effort. Instead of an eponymous album title—and videos like "Partition," where we're given an illicit look at the Carters' marriage, or "Drunk in Love," a medley of stunning shots of the megastar writhing on the beach—Swift's 1989 is a high-gloss time capsule of all of the thoughts, images, and expectations foisted onto Millennials. With Bey, we're happy just to get a glimpse into her diamond-leotard encrusted universe, to put our hands up and imitate the woman we've dubbed our queen. Taylor Swift, on the other hand, presents herself as "one of us"—she, too, needs to "shake it off," goes crazy over boys, and suspects that people are talking shit. "Blank Space" is more than just something to look at, which is more than can be said about most music videos. It's something we're able to read into—perhaps too much so, but isn't overanalyzing just another part of our social universe? With this album, and most recently, this video, Swift functions as a prism of all of our shared experiences. And with it, she's able to refract all of our projections right back at us.

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